


A High King Make

by scatterglory



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, BAMF!Merlin, Canon Compliant, F/F, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Porn, Reverse Big Bang Challenge, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-10
Updated: 2012-02-10
Packaged: 2017-10-30 21:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/336479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scatterglory/pseuds/scatterglory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Really, Arthur,” Merlin said, vainly trying to sound cross as he fiddled with the knot of his neckerchief. “This whole 'recovering from battle' thing would go a lot more smoothly if you'd stop sticking your hands down my trousers every five minutes.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	A High King Make

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Merlin Reverse Big Bang Challenge. A huge thank you to my wonderful beta silver_falcon24, who did a lightning-fast and extremely thorough job of clearing up my confusion, smoothing out my flow, and manhandling my recalcitrant ellipses into some semblance of order. You rock!!! All remaining mistakes are mine. :) Of course, none of this would have happened without the TWO (bonus sketch FTW!) absolutely amazing works of art by the talented catsinthecoffee, which are available here: http://catsinthecoffee.livejournal.com/18539.html. GO LOOK AT THEM RIGHT NOW, PRINT THEM OUT, AND THEN DIE OF THE AWESOME.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a transformative work of fan-love. I make no profit and claim no ownership.

“ _Ealdor_ ,” Arthur ground out as he dodged one flashing sword and countered another, “had better be grateful for this!”

“ _Ealdor_ ,” Merlin shot back as he lobbed another fireball into the mist, “thinks the sun shines out your arse, so I don't think you've got anything to worry about!”

King Alined's men fell back slightly as flames exploded around them, and Arthur snorted. “You can't _speak_ to me like that, _Mer_ lin!” Flinging out his arm, he grabbed Merlin's tunic in a gloved hand and pulled them back-to-back.

“Manhandling me in public now, your Highness?” Merlin rolled his eyes, but his expression was serious as he held his sword at the ready and extended his free hand towards the men advancing on them.

Even without looking, he could sense Arthur's sharp, deadly smile. “I'll manhandle you anywhere I so choose,” he growled, shifting his grip on his sword before launching himself at the closest warrior.

With a muffled curse, Merlin released another round of fireballs, blasting five men back off their feet and sending several others ducking for cover. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur take out two more, before his attention snapped across the battlefield.

“Arthur!” he shouted. “By Leon! The sorcerer!”

“Go! I'll cover you!”

Trusting his king, Merlin took off running, eyes fixed on the hooded figure extending a pale hand towards Sir Leon. Muttering under his breath as he ran, he smiled as the sorcerer flew backwards, struck by the unseen force of his spell. Arthur's laughter rang out just behind him, joyful and wild as he cut down yet another enemy, and Merlin risked a glance back over his shoulder. Arthur's eyes met his, radiant and proud, and Merlin's magic sang in his veins. He reached the sorcerer just as the man was struggling to his feet. Blue eyes met black as the man's magic slithered over his skin, and Merlin's stomach flipped. A whispered word and a golden flash was all it took and the man crumpled before him, senseless and broken.

“Merlin!” someone cried out in warning.

Merlin glanced up just in time to raise his sword and block the blow before blasting his attacker back into the fog. Arthur pulled up short next to him, hissing with exasperation.

“What's the point in giving you a sword if you never think to _use_ it, idiot?”

“Didn't ask for it, did I, clotpole?” Merlin shot back, grinning.

Whatever response Arthur made was drowned out by a sudden surge of sound—squinting into the fog, Merlin saw arms of Camelot-red pump into the air in victory as the remains of King Alined's army cut and ran. The standard of the king itself was the first off the field, and Merlin snorted in borrowed contempt; Arthur's prediction had been right. Although Alined had eagerly filled the empty place of power left after Cenred's death years ago, and had had no qualms at gradually encroaching on Camelot's lands ever since, he was indeed too much of a coward to face Arthur's sword in open battle.

Although really, any decent spy could have told Alined that running Ealdor into the ground to fund his treaty-violating delusions of grandeur was the best possible way to spur Arthur to war.

By Merlin's side, Arthur laughed again. Cheering with victory, his knights poured across the field to him, riding the crest of triumph even as they began to retrieve their wounded from the mists.

* * *

“Really, Arthur,” Merlin said, vainly trying to sound cross as he fiddled with the knot of his neckerchief. “This whole 'recovering from battle' thing would go a lot more smoothly if you'd stop sticking your hands down my trousers every five minutes.”

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur growled into the back of his neck, while doing something with his fingers that made Merlin gasp and squirm. “I'm the King, I can stick my hands wherever I want.”

“You—ah!—may be the King, but you're still a r-royal prat,” Merlin choked out as Arthur's hand closed around him with _intent._ “C-can we at least take our armour off first? It's going to get all—”

“Then you'll just have to clean it,” Arthur murmured into his ear, breath moist and hot as he walked Merlin forward towards their makeshift bed. Through the thin walls of the tent, Merlin could hear the knights laughing and cheering, celebrating their victory with food, ale and song.

“I'm not your servant any more, remember? You _sacked_ me!” Merlin complained as Arthur pressed along the length of his back. “You can't make me—”

“Can't I?” Arthur's tongue flicked out over Merlin's earlobe, making him shudder, just as Arthur's free hand stroked up along his neck and tilted his head back against Arthur's shoulder. “And I may have sacked you as my manservant, but I seem to recall that you found another... _position_...to fill...”

“P-pretty s-sure that my f-formal duties d-don't actually include—” Merlin broke off with a gasp. His eyes fluttered shut as Arthur sucked sharply at the skin just below his ear, before pulling away to whisper in a low, dark voice,

“Aren't you going to stop me, _sorcerer_?”

Merlin hissed as his eyes flew open, and he felt Arthur's chuckle rumble against his back. “Yeah,” he said breathlessly. “Yeah.”

“Then do it,” Arthur growled in his ear, and Merlin's breath caught in his throat as he said the word. Instantly, Arthur was wrenched away from him and flung onto his back on the bed, his wrists pinned over his head by unseen bands. Heat flared in the king's eyes as he struggled futilely under Merlin's gaze. Merlin felt a matching heat pool in his groin as Arthur twisted and writhed in front of him, eyes dark with arousal and cheeks growing pink with exertion. Merlin's tongue flicked out to lick his lips and Arthur tracked the movement, his mouth falling open slightly and his breath coming more harshly.

“ _Mer_ lin,” he ground out, still commanding even in the throes of lust, and Merlin smirked down at him.

“Yes, sire?”

Arthur made a frustrated noise and opened his mouth, but Merlin had a better idea. “Actually, it's probably better if you don't speak,” he grinned, eyes flashing gold. Arthur's eyes widened as Merlin's neckerchief leapt from the floor and gagged him; the king moaned in the back of his throat and stilled momentarily, before renewing his struggles.

“And this would be easier if you were naked.” Another flash, and Arthur lay before him completely exposed, his cock straining up as the cool evening air met his overheated skin.

“Much better,” Merlin said in a deeply satisfied tone, before removing his own mail and clothing as well. Arthur moaned appreciatively as Merlin stood before him, and Merlin allowed the king to look for several moments before forcing Arthur's legs apart with magic and kneeling between them on the bed.

“Shh,” he said quietly, ducking his head and licking a wet stripe up the side of Arthur's neck. “Don't want the others to hear.”

Arthur made a rude-sounding noise that Merlin chose to ignore, instead working his way down Arthur's neck with hot kisses and sharp nips, before honing in on one pert nipple. Arthur's eyes rolled back in his head, and his hips bucked up as Merlin worried the hardened nub with his teeth. Merlin laughed breathlessly into his chest.

“None of that,” he murmured, sliding one hand down between Arthur's legs and giving his cock a firm squeeze. “I'll get there soon enough.”

Apparently their definitions of ‘soon enough’ differed, however, because Arthur just growled and tried to thrust up into Merlin's grip. Mock-frowning, Merlin sat back on his heels and crossed his arms. “Behave yourself, or I'll go join the knights 'round the fire and leave you here like this.”

Arthur pulled sharply against the magic restraining him, indignation and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. Swallowing a sudden surge of emotion, Merlin's eyes flashed gold again and the gag fell away, leaving Arthur gasping as Merlin swooped down to claim his mouth.

“Thought you didn't want them to hear?” Arthur asked shakily when Merlin pulled away. The king looked up at him, eyes wide and clear, the expression on his face so raw and open that Merlin had to shrug and look away.

“Already know, don't they?” he mumbled into Arthur's neck, nosing against Arthur's hot skin as Arthur rubbed his cheek in Merlin's hair.

“Mmm,” Arthur moaned happily as Merlin sucked a mark into his neck. “Should think it's fairly obvious at this point. Even if Gwaine's still a bit handsy with you ...”

Merlin laughed, and pulled back far enough to look into Arthur's eyes. “Jealous?” he teased.

Heat flared in Arthur's stare, and Merlin's heart skipped a beat. _“Yes,”_ Arthur growled.

Merlin felt a blush rise on his cheeks at the admission, the newness of it all enough to make him tingle all over. “Don't be,” he whispered, kissing Arthur soundly before sliding down along his body. Arthur gasped and arched up against him as the tip of his cock brushed against Merlin's hole. Another whispered word and golden flash, and Merlin’s magic bent to his will, preparing him for Arthur. He sank down, wet and ready, taking Arthur into him in a single movement.

“Oh _gods,_ ” Arthur choked out as Merlin began to move.

“Mmm,” Merlin agreed, rolling his hips luxuriously. “You feel _so good_ ,” he breathed.

Arthur could only groan and thrust up helplessly in reply, and Merlin bit his lip as they fell into rhythm easily. In what seemed like no time at all, Merlin felt his own arousal cresting, his head falling back and he panted Arthur's name over and over again.

He cried out as pleasure engulfed him, barely feeling it when his magic gave out and Arthur surged up and wrapped Merlin in his arms. Merlin trembled against Arthur's chest as Arthur flipped them, laying Merlin flat on his back and plunging into him as Merlin moaned through the aftershocks. Wrapping his legs around Arthur's waist, Merlin clutched Arthur's shoulders with shaking hands as the king came inside him, muffling a cry in Merlin's neck before collapsing bonelessly on top of him.

They lay together for a long while, just breathing as Arthur's arms framed Merlin's body, and Merlin's legs kept Arthur pressed firmly against and inside him. One of Merlin's hands absently carded through the sweat-drenched hair at the nape of Arthur's neck, and Arthur sighed into the place where Merlin's neck met his shoulder.

“We should probably go,” Arthur murmured at last, his voice filled with regret.

Merlin pressed a kiss into Arthur's cheek, shifting slightly and feeling Arthur's now-soft cock begin to slip out. “Need to rally your troops?”

Arthur nuzzled Merlin's ear even as he began to pull away. “Need to make sure we're prepared for tomorrow.”

Merlin sighed as Arthur slipped out of him entirely, stretching out to his full length as Arthur stood up on shaking legs. Arthur's eyes traced over the lines of his body, and he swallowed convulsively as Merlin smiled up at him from behind heavily-lidded eyes.

“Shall I accompany you, sire?” Merlin asked in a low voice.

Ducking his head to hide a smile, Arthur nodded. “But perhaps after we're slightly more presentable?”

Merlin sighed theatrically, and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Spoilsport,” he grinned as his eyes flashed gold.

* * *

Overall, they'd emerged from the battle in remarkably good condition, Merlin reflected as he followed Arthur through the camp. The knights were in good spirits, and several of them winked at him when Arthur's back was turned. Merlin smiled back cheekily and tried not to blush; over the past months of their campaign against Alined he'd become mostly immune to the smug, approving stares of Arthur's inner circle. But he'd never walked among them so soon after such a... _vocal_ performance.

“Oi! Merlin!”

Merlin's thoughts were interrupted by a tipsy Gwaine, who grinned as he flung his arm around Merlin’s shoulder.

“Heard you an' His Highness _celebrating_ earlier,” Gwaine drawled, breath reeking of ale. “If you two are gonna have another go later an' could use a little more company…” Gwaine trailed off, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Conscious of Arthur's eyes on him, Merlin laughed and shrugged out from under Gwaine's arm. “Thanks for the offer,” he said lightly, “but—”

“—but I don't share,” a smiling Arthur stated firmly, pulling Merlin snug against his side. Merlin ducked his head to hide the flush of pleasure that coloured his cheeks, and Gwaine laughed.

“Can't blame a bloke for tryin',” he grinned impishly, making Arthur laugh. “Elyan! Where're you off to, mate?”

As Gwaine wandered off in search of other entertainment, Merlin nudged his shoulder into Arthur's chest. “Feeling a bit possessive, are we?”

In response, Arthur reached up slowly, a small smile playing across his lips as he traced the outline of the Pendragon crest on Merlin's tunic. “I need you all to myself if we're going to make up for all those years we _should_ have been doing this.”

Merlin bit his lip at his king's words—and who would have thought that, after so many years, after all the lies and betrayal and deceit, they'd finally have figured it out on the road to war?

He exhaled shakily as Arthur pressed their foreheads together.

“Come on,” the king said quietly. “We've more fires to visit.”

* * *

“—and Sir Leon will take a full headcount. I'll need to know if it's necessary to send for some of the men we left to rebuild Ealdor.”

Arthur's voice was firm, filling the tent, and Merlin felt a rush of warmth burst in his chest as the knights nodded with solemn approval. Gwaine caught his eye and winked, making Merlin blush, before turning his attention back to the king.

“The men fought bravely today,” Gwaine said in an uncharacteristically serious tone. His eyes flickered to Merlin, before focusing back on Arthur. “As I was walking through the camp earlier, I heard more than one tongue whisper 'High King'.”

A shiver ran down Merlin's spine, and he watched Arthur closely. The king's face was neutral as he squared his shoulders.

“Victory in battle does not a High King make,” he replied calmly. “Let the men say what they will, but caution them against overconfidence. We have no idea what Alined has in store for us at his castle.”

That was Merlin's cue, and he stepped forward. “From what I've been able to scry, he has at least three sorcerers in reserve, but I have no idea who they are, or how powerful their magic is.”

Arthur nodded sharply, and took over.

“Merlin,” he said, and Merlin staggered forward slightly as Elyan clapped him on the shoulder with a grin, “will seek out the sorcerers. Leon, Gwaine, you will accompany him. Elyan and Percival will come with me to find Alined.”

The knights nodded, and Arthur looked at them each in turn. “Our victories until now have come at a much lower price than they easily could have,” he said, and Merlin's ears heated as several pairs of eyes glanced over to him. “But do not let that dull your blades. Tomorrow, we fight Alined where his is the strongest.”

This was news to none of them, and the knights waited patiently as Arthur continued. “Tomorrow, we fight not just to keep Ealdor safe; nor do we fight to simply reclaim what Alined has stolen. Tomorrow, we fight to protect the peoples of Camelot, Ealdor, and all those under Alined's rule. We fight to bring him and his people under my standard, to send a clear message to all those who would challenge me. I _will_ fight for peace.”

Glancing at the knights' faces, Merlin saw that Arthur's words, while true enough, did not quite capture what was in each of their hearts. He was about to step forward, when Gwaine beat him to it.

“Don't mistake me, Sire, peace is all well and good, but that's not what _we'll_ be fighting for tomorrow,” he said, glancing around at his brothers-in-arms with a grin.

Arthur's brow creased and his lips parted, but Leon interjected before he could speak.

“What the drunkard—”

“Oi!”

“—means to say, is that tomorrow, we fight for _you._ ” Leon's eyes held Arthur's, and only Merlin was close enough to hear the air hiss between the king's teeth.

“And for Merlin.” Elyan stepped forward, hand on the pommel of his sword. “He may not call himself Court Sorcerer yet—”

“—and you may not call yourself High King,” came Percival's voice.

“—but to us, you are,” said Gwaine.

“And we will follow you until the day we die,” finished Leon.

Heart feeling as though it would burst from his chest, Merlin watched Arthur bow his head, before raising it to look at his knights with shining eyes.

“For Camelot,” he said in a quiet voice.

Stepping to stand by him, shoulder to shoulder, Merlin put his hand on Arthur's arm. “For Albion,” he corrected.

The air rippled as the knights repeated his words, but the look in Arthur's eyes was all for Merlin as the rest of the world fell away.

* * *

“—fine, Mum, really, the battle today didn't last very long at all, and—”

A choking noise from across the tent made Merlin glance up to see Arthur, biting his lip to keep from laughing as Merlin reassured a worried Hunith that he'd made it through the day unharmed. Merlin glared at the unrepentant king, before a lovely idea occurred to him.

“—actually, Mum, Arthur's right here, I'm sure he'd love to chat about today...”

Grinning, Merlin dragged a wide-eyed Arthur over to the scrying bowl and jabbed him in the side. After revelling in watching his king squirm under his mother's scrutiny, Merlin took pity on Arthur and laced their fingers together loosely. Arthur squeezed his hand, and replied to a question that Merlin had only half-heard.

“Of course I will. With my life.”

Glancing from Arthur's solemn face to his mother's gentle smile, Merlin swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat. “As will I.”

Arthur's grip tightened again, and Hunith made a soft noise. “Just be sure that you come back to me in one piece. _Both_ of you.”

“We will, Mum,” Merlin promised with a smile. “Is Gwen there?”

Hunith nodded and stepped back, and the sunny face of Camelot's Queen came into view.

“Hello Merlin, Arthur.” Even as her eyes roamed over their bodies, Merlin saw the lines of worry in her face ease. “It went well, then?”

Merlin flushed as Arthur's arm slipped around his waist. “All thanks to Merlin, yes.”

If anything, Gwen's smile grew brighter. “I'll tell Morgana as soon as she wakes up; that new potion of Gaius' is working, and I didn't want to disturb her...”

And that made the worry lines on Arthur's face fade. When Morgana had been violently stripped of her magic in their final battle, no one, not even Gaius, had thought she'd ever regain consciousness, much less sanity, again. Now, six months later and thanks to Gwen's loving care, she was more herself than she'd been since Merlin's first years in Camelot.

Merlin's eyes met Gwen's as Arthur relaxed against him. Though she and Arthur had concluded that their marriage could never truly be more than friendly shortly after her coronation five years ago, Merlin still could hardly believe that things had worked out so well. With Morgana coming back to them, shaken and weakened but alive and whole, the Lancelot-shaped hole in Gwen's heart was filled in a way that the gentle affection between her and Arthur had never managed.

From the look in her eyes, Gwen's thoughts matched Merlin's, united in a way their lovers could never understand, a bond born of the blessing and burden of loving a Pendragon.

Arthur and Gwen exchanged a few more words about the welfare of Camelot and their people, and Merlin listened with half an ear until they said their goodbyes. With a final wave to Gwen, Merlin ended the spell.

“We should go to bed,” he murmured. “You need to rest.”

“Mmm.” Arthur tugged on Merlin's sleeve absently, thoughts clearly elsewhere. “Your mother is looking well.”

Merlin allowed himself to be drawn forward into Arthur's arms, his own coming up to wrap loosely around Arthur's waist. “She's had three months of the best that Camelot has to offer,” he said, sighing into Arthur's neck. “And she knows that Ealdor's safe, so we're really all she has to worry about.”

“Mmm,” Arthur said again, amusement colouring his tone. “As long as it's just our health, and not your _virtue_ that she's worrying about.”

Merlin huffed out a laugh, feeling his cheeks heat. “That was possibly the most awkward moment of my life,” he admitted with a grin. He hadn't even thought to check himself after their first night together, and his mother's look of shock had been obvious even in the distorted image of the scrying bowl. Arthur had been ridiculously smug at the size of the mark he'd left on Merlin's neck, and of course it was the one (and only!) time during the campaign that Merlin had contacted Camelot before putting on his neckerchief.

Hunith had taken it well, considering that when they'd left Camelot for Ealdor, she'd seemed more afraid that they'd end up killing each other than...doing other things. She'd adapted to the change in her son's situation remarkably quickly, he felt, especially since it had taken him and Arthur three months of anguished silence before her arrival in Camelot, two weeks of fantastic rows on the road, and one night of anger, sweat and skin in Arthur's tent to work themselves out. Given everything that had happened that night, starting with Merlin cornering Arthur after a particular painful exchange and ending with no sleep for either of them, he figured outing themselves via love bite was a relatively mild mistake.

Arthur chuckled, and rubbed his hands up and down Merlin's back. “Now, what was that about bed?”

 

* * *

“There was something I meant to bring up when we were speaking with the knights,” Merlin remembered suddenly. “I know you're not quite comfortable with the idea of using him in battle, but if you're truly worried about our chances tomorrow, we could always call Aithusa—”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur practically growled, “Do you really want to talk about bloody dragons _now?_ ”

Glancing down in mock-surprise, Merlin stared wide-eyed at his writhing king. “Now seems as good a time as any.”

Arthur pushed himself up on his elbows slightly, glaring back over his shoulder at the grinning warlock.

“You,” he snarled, “are _evil._ ”

“Am not,” Merlin replied complacently, thrusting in the way that was proven to make Arthur's toes curl.

“Yes,” the king gasped out emphatically as Merlin chuckled. “You most certainly _are_.”

Merlin hummed indulgently. “All right, then,” he conceded, snapping his hips forward before reaching around to take Arthur firmly in hand. “You love it, though.”

Arthur's reply remained unvoiced until much later, when they both collapsed on the bed, limp and spent and tangled in each other's limbs.

“I do,” he murmured fervently, lips ghosting across Merlin's shoulder. “May all the gods help me, but I really do.”

“Do what?” Merlin mumbled sleepily, confused.

“Love it.” Arthur scattered soft kisses across his brow, cheeks, lips. “Love _you_.”

Merlin reached up languidly, pulling Arthur down onto him and breathing into his mouth, “I love you too.”

They were still wrapped in each other's arms, breath passing from one to the other, when sleep claimed them at last.

* * *

_Smoke._

_Fire._

_Arthur!_

_No—!_

Merlin startled awake, his hand outstretched and glowing in the darkness of the tent. Pressed snugly against his back, Arthur mumbled softly and tightened his arms around Merlin's chest, still asleep despite the pounding of Merlin's heart and the harshness of his breath in the night.

Shutting his eyes and forcing himself to calm, Merlin settled back against Arthur. Twisting in Arthur's embrace, Merlin snaked his own arms around the king's waist, pulling him in close. Arthur sighed in his sleep and buried his face in Merlin's neck and Merlin breathed in his scent as the darkness cradled them gently.

Over time, his dream of their final battle against Morgana had changed, but it was no less terrifying. Right after, when he'd still been in the cell where Arthur had thrown him, he'd seen her once-beautiful green eyes burning with madness, her mouth twisted with hate as she sent the deadly spell careening through the air.

Now, however, Morgana's part in his dreams had faded, and all he could see was the look of horror on Arthur's face, made visible in the dark of Camelot's bowels by the glow from Merlin's outstretched hand.

As if sensing Merlin's troubled thoughts, Arthur shifted, sliding one knee between Merlin's and twining their legs together.

Merlin pressed back against him, wanting nothing more than to be able to banish the memory of the cold cell floor below him, the desperate hope he'd felt when Arthur had neither killed nor banished him, the despair that had nearly destroyed him when he'd realized that he was dead to Arthur nonetheless...

“...thinking too loud again,” Arthur murmured sleepily, and Merlin felt a pang of guilt for disturbing his rest.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “It's nothing. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” Arthur's thigh pressed upwards, making Merlin gasp softly. “Don't think I will.”

“A-Arthur, you need—”

“I know what I need,” Arthur in a soft, firm voice, before cupping the back of Merlin's head. “I need _this_.”

He pulled Merlin into a kiss and Merlin melted against him, falling easily into the lazy, rolling rhythm of Arthur's hips as they slowly explored each other's mouths. They came, still wrapped in each other's arms, and Merlin found himself smiling softly as they sank back down into the bed.

“What?” Arthur asked, his attempt at irritation failing completely.

“Nothing.”

“ _Mer_ lin,” Arthur poked him in the ribs, “come on, tell me!”

Merlin squirmed. “'S stupid. Just thinking that maybe there is something to that whole destiny bit after all.”

Arthur tensed slightly, and Merlin knew he was remembering harsh words spoken in anger and pain, biting and vicious in an attempt to drive Merlin even further out of his life.

_You may accompany the army to Ealdor if you truly believe it's your_ destiny _, but if you dare to interfere with me in any way, magical or not, I'll show you just how cruel destiny can be._

Merlin buried his face in Arthur's shoulder, breathing in the smell of him to drive away the stench of hopelessness he'd felt then, allowed to follow Arthur but denied any scrap of forgiveness. If Arthur had actually been able to ignore Merlin as he'd promised, Merlin doubted it would have made it as long as he did before forcing a confrontation.

After a long moment, Arthur cleared his throat. “When we return to Camelot, you'll be my Court Sorcerer,” he said softly. “Magic will no longer be banned, and you'll sit by my side.”

Merlin shifted in his arms. “I know, you've said so before.”

Raising up on one elbow, Arthur looked down at him. “I'm not _saying,_ Merlin. I'm _swearing._ ” All traces of his smile were gone, and his blue eyes bored into Merlin's.

Merlin stared back at him, speechless. Transfixed by the intensity of Arthur's gaze, he could only nod dumbly as the weight of Arthur's words pressed down on his chest.

Seeing Merlin's reaction, Arthur's lips curved up slightly.

“How's _that_ for destiny?” he smirked, before capturing Merlin's mouth with his own.

* * *

In the end, it almost disappointing.

Alined's pet sorcerers had been no match for Merlin, with one even going so far as to surrender before he'd thrown a single spell. The others put up more of a fight, but Merlin had been in a hurry to get back to Arthur, and vanquished them almost absent-mindedly. He'd made it to Arthur's side scant moments later, only to find a him staring down impassively at a snivelling Alined. Alined's assassin, Trickler, lay unconscious on the ground, and Merlin stepped over his motionless body on his way to his king's side.

He whispered softly beneath his breath as Alined swore fealty to Arthur with a trembling voice, the flash of his eyes adding the weight of magic to Alined's flimsy oath. Arthur's eyes flickered to his briefly, a troubled look flashing over his face, and Merlin put on his best "who, me?" expression. Arthur shot him a "we'll talk about this later" look, but Alined was finishing and kissing his hand, and Merlin had to turn away to hide a satisfied smile.

It had been a blessedly brief fight. They had lost a few men, and several more were injured, but Alined's army became docile enough once their king was taken.

"That could have been much worse," Arthur said softly as they followed Alined down to the main hall. "Thank you."

Merlin shrugged, still vaguely uncomfortable to hear words of thanks for his magic on Arthur's lips, and nudged him in the side. "Didn't do much," he mumbled.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Arthur's lips twitch in a grin. "Naturally." His eyes slanted over to Merlin. "We'll stay here tonight, in the castle."

Merlin nodded; of course they'd want to give everyone a rest before beginning the march back to Camelot. "Good, it will be nice to get our things washed, and sleep in real beds."

Alined had turned the corner ahead of them, and Merlin stifled a yelp as Arthur's hand shot out, spinning him around and pressing him back against the wall.

"Who said anything about _sleep_?" Arthur murmured, hot and warm against his lips, before whirling away and leaving Merlin to stumble along behind him, gasping and _achingly_ hard.

And with the beginning of a brilliant plan beginning to form in his mind.

* * *

Merlin rolled his shoulders, relishing the burn in his shoulders, legs, arse...everywhere, really, as he stood next the Arthur on the castle steps. Arthur was staring sternly ahead, watching his men get ready to ride out, but his lips curved upward as Merlin groaned quietly but pointedly.

"There's no way I can be expected to ride a horse in this condition, Sire," he huffed, completely failing to sound annoyed.

"Perhaps you'll remember that the next time you ensorcell one of my subjects without my permission," Arthur said archly, watching with distaste as Alined nervously oversaw the preparations of his knights.

Merlin narrowed his eyes. "Firstly, he wasn't your subject at the time--I cast the spell while he was still swearing his oath. And secondly, I didn't _ensorcell_ him, I just made it so he'd have to keep his word, which is a moot point if he's the man of honour he pretends to be."

Arthur snorted at that, but valiantly pretended it was a cough.

"And lastly," Merlin said, fighting to keep the smirk off his face, "If last night was meant to be a punishment, I'm afraid you'll have to be more creative in the future. _Sire_."

Arthur blinked, a deep flush beginning to colour his cheeks.

"You do realize," he said in a rough voice, "that we're going to be surrounded by very sharp-eyed, gossip-loving knights until we break for camp tonight?"

And Arthur couldn't have given Merlin a more perfect set-up if he'd wanted to.

"Erm," Merlin said, "I may have a way around that."

Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Merlin beamed at him. "Do you trust me?"

Naturally, there was only one answer Arthur could give.

* * *

“I will _never_ trust you again,” Arthur gasped as he wrapped his arm around a nearby tree-trunk and buried his face in the bark.

“Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad,” Merlin laughed as he dismounted. Aithusa chuckled softly, and Arthur glared balefully over his shoulder at the pair of them.

“Not that bad, my arse. He went _upside-down_ ,” he snarled.

Merlin grinned and thanked Aithusa with a thought, dismissing him and saying they'd look for him again in seven days. Once the dragon was a mere speck in the distance, Merlin came up behind Arthur and rested his chin on Arthur's shoulder

“Scared of heights, my lord?” he teased gently.

Arthur released the tree from his death-grip and turned in his arms.“If you ever breathe a _word_ ,” he began.

“Don't worry,” Merlin murmured, pressing Arthur back against the tree. “I'm very good at keeping secrets.”

Arthur made a slightly pained noise, and Merlin forced himself not to regret his choice of words.

“It's all in the past,” he whispered into Arthur's neck, “and we have a week until the army reaches Camelot.”

Arthur's arms wrapped around his waist, and Merlin gasped as he was lifted off the ground. His eyes flashed gold, softening the forest floor below them even as Arthur lowered him down slowly, and they collapsed to the ground, together.

* * *

“Arthur.” Merlin ran a finger down Arthur's warm back lazily, dipping between the perfect globes of his arse and pressing gently against Arthur's still-wet entrance.

Arthur mumbled something incoherent and pushed back into the touch. A flame of want lanced through Merlin and he pulled away reluctantly. “Arthur, we have to go. Aithusa's on his way.”

Arthur rolled over with a groan, reaching out blindly and pulling Merlin down on top of him. “Bloody dragons,” he grumbled into Merlin's chest, before sucking hot kisses into his neck.

“Stop that,” Merlin laughed. “Unless you want Aithusa to see—”

Arthur slumped back in defeat, allowing Merlin to climb off and go in search of their clothes.

“Bloody _dragons,_ ” Arthur repeated.

* * *

Camelot shone in front of them, made even more precious in their absence. Below them, the army marched, summoning hidden reserves of speed and strength as their home grew near. Wheeling overhead on Aithusa's back, Merlin wrapped himself even more tightly around Arthur's waist and smiled into his shoulder.

As they neared the city walls, Merlin made out the words the crowd was chanting before Arthur did, but only because he'd been expecting them. He felt Arthur stiffen in front of him, no doubt clenching his legs even more tightly around Aithusa, and leaned forward to murmur into his king's ear.

“Can you hear it?”

Arthur shook his head, listening hard, as they swooped over the heads of the army, over the walls of Camelot, over the throng of his people who had assembled to share in his victory.

He could tell the instant Arthur realized what they were shouting, screaming, crying with joy. A muscle in his jaw jumped and Merlin nuzzled his shoulder, once, before they were low enough to be seen.

_High King! High King! High King!_

When they landed in the courtyard, Merlin paused as Arthur leapt gracefully from Aithusa's back and faced his people. Merlin watched with his heart in his throat, mostly hidden by Aithusa's wings as the people cheered, crying their love for their shining, glorious king.

He was about to dismount quietly and slip away, when Arthur turned to him suddenly.

“People of Camelot,” the king's voice rang out, “I give you Merlin Emrys, Court Sorcerer!”

Face burning and mouth dry, Merlin took Arthur's outstretched hand and slid shakily off the dragon's back. Arthur pulled him to face the crowd, pressing their shoulders together and lifting their joined hands for all to see.

Merlin felt dizzy as the roar of the crowd washed over him, but Arthur's hand in his grounded him. Tearing his gaze away from the cheering mass of people before them, his eyes met Arthur's in a perfect moment of joy, and all the magic in his soul was no more than a candle next to the love and pride burning in his heart.

_Fin_


End file.
